


Handling

by Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Diva And Her Bodyguard [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Look don't tell me you would not ride that man's thigh if you got the chance, Podfic Welcome, Quickies, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, thigh grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: Paz's role as bodyguard expands as he helps his client work off some steam after a performance.She does offer to replace his gloves, later, seeing that she left a pretty obvious bite mark in one of them. He refuses. Apparently he likes to see the reminder.
Relationships: Paz Vizla/Loysia (OFC), Paz Vizla/Original Female Character
Series: The Diva And Her Bodyguard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673845
Comments: 12
Kudos: 116





	Handling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissTeaVee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/gifts).



> A birthday fic for [MissTeaVee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee)
> 
> Sorry if this is low on character context. Miss Loysia first appears in Continuation chapter 4 and then took on a life of her own. Now she's just fun to pair with Paz for 'Hey write something hot with Paz' moments.

Loya steps into the lift that leads downstage from the screaming, stomping performance circle with a high that rivals high-grade uppers. Her face flushed, her heart pounding, her whole body vibrating with energy. There's applause from the event crew when she gets out of the little round lift, and she whirls and bows, feeling like she's flying.

The welcome bulk of Paz is waiting for her just outside the circle of crew, and she grabs his arm with a slightly manic "Hi!" and aims herself toward the hallway where she vaguely remembers is her dressing room. He goes along with her until they're out of earshot of the crew.

"Where are we going?"

"Dressing room," she says, and he stops dead. Fuck. No way is she moving this tank of a man if he doesn't want to move. "Oh, come onn, I want—"

"You've got fifteen minutes until a live interview. No time for going to your dressing room."

Well, no time for doing what she wants to do in her dressing room, which is to get both their clothes open just far enough that she can get his cock into her and fuck frantically until the performance high burns out and she crashes into his arms. He's been to enough of these kinds of performances with her to know and enjoy that routine.

" _Fuck_ that interview," she breathes, nearly panting for breath. Her body is overheated and sweaty and she _wants_. Craves. She could not care less about anything like that right now. "They can wait. Come on."

To her surprise he does actually start moving again, freeing his arm from her grip and putting his hand on her back instead to guide her. He cares about looking professional—he represents all Mandalorians, always—so this is usually the extent of their touch in public, his gloved hand in the small of her back. When they turn a corner he slips his hand more to the side, digging his fingertips into the flesh of her hip. He steers her into some corridor.

"Dressing room?" she asks hopefully.

"No time for that," he repeats. "I'll have people panicking in my ear if you're late."

He's usually on the event comms. That means she doesn't have to have some bright-eyed handler following her around referring to her as 'the talent' and talking to the gossip press afterward. She much prefers Paz making sure she is where she needs to be. Except right now.

"Why are you being so _sensible_ ," she complains.

"There's this lady. Pretty good dancer. Said not to let her make impulsive decisions just after performances."

"She sounds boring."

"Hmm. I think she's pretty exciting." He takes her hand and presses it against his thigh as they're walking, against the edge of the heavy padding and—she feels the thick ridge of his erection even though his layers. Fuck, she wants to climb him like a tree and just— _fuck._ She's gonna have the world's worst interview if she's this wound up.

"Not helping with calming me down here, Paz," she breathes.

"Shh. Gonna take care of you," he says in a low tone, grunting softly when she presses her hand harder against him.

He halts for a moment and looks around, then pushes her into some kind of narrow corridor. She has no idea where they are—is this staging storage?— but it's quiet and dark and then Paz backs her against the wall. He's got a hand in the small of her back. She straight up _whines_ when he pushes his thick thigh between hers and shoves up until she's on her toes, ground intimately against his thigh armour. She shifts a little, pulling the many layers of fabric of her short dress out of the way, and—

"Oh, _fuck_ yessss…"

"Here, hold this," he says in a low voice, presenting her with his right glove right by her mouth. She takes it between her teeth, letting it muffle her moan when his now bare right hand goes around her ass and then slips under her. His thick fingers easily find their way into her drenched underwear, and she pushes her face into the fabric of his cowl to smother her hoarse cry when they shove into her without hesitation.

His other arm is at her back, so that he's pressing her into his own hold rather than the wall. The palm of his hand is cupped protectively behind her head.

"That what you needed?" he asks her, voice rough as he rocks his thigh, and between the way her clit grinds up against his armour and his thick fingers fill her cunt, she's feeling the heat in her belly ramp up. "Huh? Needed to be pinned to a wall and have my fingers in your hot little cunt?"

It feels so fucking good she could cry, and she rocks her hips, rushing headlong toward an explosion that began building the moment the crowd started stomping their feet during her performance. Her whole body is buzzing, her head still feels light from the endless spin at the end of her performance.

"Looked so _fucking_ good out there," he says. "Figured you'd be wound up when you came down."

"Yesss…." she hisses against his neck. Her whole body feels tight like a spring, every grind of her hips, every thrust of his fingers winding her up tighter. Her knees are shaking, and her toes are off the ground, her weight fully, effortlessly carried. All her muscles tense up, and she curls her fingers under the edges of his back plate, feeling like she's going to shake apart somehow.

"Fuck, Paz, I'm gonna—"

"I've got you," he reassures. "Go on."

There's a whine in her inhale. Loya tilts her hips forward and then suddenly she comes undone, all at once, all that tension unspooling explosively. Paz's gloved hand presses her face into his cowl, glove still in her mouth, muffling her urgent moans as she comes apart and he holds her together.

" _There_ we go," he sounds pleased and somehow proud, which only sets her off harder, cunt clamping down on his fingers. Her body tries to curl up and instead just curls into him, clinging. His fingers, still moving gently inside of her, make it go on and on, until there's nothing left and her body slumps against him.

She has no idea how long she just… breathes.

"Copy, five minutes," she vaguely hears him say at some point, pulling her focus back to the here and now. "Diva Loysia will be there."

"Oh fuck," she mumbles, letting go of the glove she had in her mouth. "Interview."

He chuckles, slowly lowering his thigh so she's coming back onto her feet. He slips his fingers out of her and then carefully straightens out the layers of her dress.

"Just let them think you're all flushed from the performance," he advises dryly, inspecting her. She realises now that the way he was holding her kept her back away from the wall, so there'd be no dust or other signs anything like this has happened. She reaches up to check her hair, still in its tight performance updo and apparently unmussed. She should check her makeup, but apart from that she doesn't think there's any sign of what just happened.

Apart from the wobbliness of her legs.

And the suddenly _much_ more relaxed mood.

She wants to kiss him, but that's not happening right now, so she lightly bonks her forehead against his chest plate.

"Best handler," she smiles against his armour, letting her hand slip down to grope the front of his trousers.

"I do enjoy handling you," he agrees, and she can hear his grin. "Come on, let's go, or they're gonna get nervous at the studio."

She gives his hard length a little squeeze.

"Handle me into taking care of that in the speeder ride to the hotel."

He hums agreeably and grips the back of her neck with his big gloved hand, moving her away from him and aiming her toward the entrance of the little hallway they're in. She jumps into motion when he swats at her ass.

"Come on ma'am. Less horny talk, more interview talk."

She does offer to replace his gloves, later, seeing that she left a pretty obvious bite mark in one of them. He refuses. Apparently he likes to see the reminder.


End file.
